Living With Fear
by INU-004
Summary: It's too much, Crona doesn't know how to deal being in an environment he's never been in. He expected cruel punishment, not a second chance. Will Maka be able to handle his constant mistakes, or will she leave him just like Medusa would? He isn't sure he could deal with her rejection, so much so, he's too scared to find out. Maybe she'd be sick with his all of his fears altogether.


**Updated! A/N:** **Well this is... odd. As with all fanfiction that I write in the beginning, I am merely testing this out as I'm not particularly confident in this category (I'm as nervous as... Crona? Maybe not that bad, but it's almost there). However, I am hoping that I may get my muse back for all my stories, so if this one doesn't really work out then I can turn my attention to another poor unfinished story of mine! Yay!**

**Before we begin, this story will not follow the anime... Kind of. The whole Kishin and Madness thing will still follow, so I guess you could consider it an AU, but it's more focusing on Maka and Crona, make sense? No? Good. Now I noticed that Crona more or less got used to being in the DWMA rather quickly for someone of his background. I've only watched the anime and never really touched the manga except when there was a big gender swap or something, that was really funny. But nothing so important concerning the story and such. Yes I skipped, sue me. So it will be based on the anime, just with a few adjustments. Anyway, he seemed to warm up to everyone all right, granted they were nice, but in this fic, it won't be so. Someone who's been neglected and taught to do things like murder to that extent by his own mother and having some weird colored blood replacing his actual blood would do a whole lot of damage to their mental health I'm sure.**

**SO! This story is an interpretation of how he would settle in a new enviornment and learn to be the exact opposite of what he was designed to be. I hope I explained enough, but if you're still a little lost feel free to ask me anything in a Review or a PM, as I'm not the best at explaining.**

***Another important notice, currently I've revised this chapter quite a bit. It was brought to my attention that I had misinterpreted a characteristic and that was certainly _not_ my intention. However, as I tried to correct and straighten it out, I found that I didn't like the way it came out and has since bothered me quite a bit. So there's been a significant change to a huge portion of this chapter due to my carelessness. I apologize to those who may have to re-read this chapter. Hopefully by the time I've replaced it, the second chapter will be up so it won't be a complete waste of your time. Hopefully. Maybe.**

**I'm so sorry I wasted your time...**

**Disclaimer:** **I do not own Soul Eater or the characters.**

**Chapter I**

"What have you gotten us into this time, Crona?" Ragnarok shouted, angrily pulling onto several strands of uneven pink hair with his now small and stubby hands.

The boy underneath merely continued to hold down the lower portion of his black robe even as it had been released for a while now, his hand clenching fistfuls of black cloth by habit of a scuffle. As for the poor boy himself, he couldn't answer the repulsive creature; he didn't know nor could he even explain what had just happened. All he did know was that he was just trying to complete his mission. Looking around, he tried to make sense of what had just taken place right in this exact spot where he now stood alone with his tormenting partner. He really couldn't understand what had happened. It was all a blur to him, one moment his entire being was hell-bent on killing this Maka girl and the next thing he knew she was asking to be his friend. She even gave him a hug. It was too much to take in at once.

Something good had happened, but also something very bad had happened too. Right now, he was quivering and scared, his mind running on overdrive trying to make sense of everything. He didn't complete his mission and he didn't understand how to deal with this sort of situation. How was he supposed to explain this to Medusa? The mere thought only made him question his newly formed friendship with Maka. This was bad, no matter how nice it may have been, no matter how accepting and forgiving the girl was, Crona felt that it was the wrong decision. In the back of his head, there was a dread that sunk his heart, telling him he shouldn't have let her in. Medusa would not accept this. He would get reprimanded. He would be in his room in the darkness until the appointed time came when he was needed once again. He could live with the dark, he could live with Ragnarok, but he was sure as the blood in his veins he couldn't deal with his mother being angry with him. However...

He looked up at the now tiny albeit angry being perched upon his head. Ragnarok had grown smaller; a lot smaller. He seemed to be the same size as when they were just five years old if not just a little bigger. He was only guessing, but he felt that now maybe, his punches and bullying would be a little easier to deal with than before. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe his room would be quiet for a while.

The black blood creature noticed his meister's curious stare and glanced down with narrowed eyes. He knew what he was thinking and it pissed him off. Shaking with rage, Ragnarok yelled out in his high pitched voice, startling Crona before raining down an assault of punches and harsh pinching at his meister's defenseless face.

Crona squeaked at the sudden attack and fell to the ground, his eyes wide and arms flailing in a panic to get away from his furious weapon. He regretted it instantly, Ragnarok's knuckles were still just as hard and they hurt against his temple, rubbing and pounding, creating a thunderous pain rattling throughout his skull. The pinching was worse now than ever. Fingers pulled at his cheeks and his delicate nose hurt and bled from a particularly hard and firm grip and it felt horrible! Pink splotches formed everywhere upon his face and it burned! He could already feel the bruises form on his tender head and face and if he did managed to get any food at all after this, the little demon was going to take it! He was sure of it now, he shouldn't have thought that his partner was inferior now that his size drastically changed. He wished he could take it back.

Despite feeling very unpleasant and warring against his other half, it was a wonderful distraction away from his uncertainty of the whole situation. It was better than just standing idly by with nothing to do at least. It was better than waiting.

Suddenly, so suddenly, he felt the presence of Medusa vanish. That cold little presence he dared not ever mistake had gone away. A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he shot up in a sitting position. Sharp, panicked eyes swirled to and fro uselessly as he held his breath. His hands holding him up as he forgot his current abuse. Even Ragnarok stopped his bullying to seemingly listen for something, his entire body uncharacteristically careful and quiet. His X-shaped pupils stilled and stared off at nothing, his fists suspended in their positions and then, as if he no longer had any business being outside, he slowly melted back inside Crona's bloodstream with a haughty "Hmph".

All the while Crona remained, a slight tremble ringing through his body as cold sweat crept behind his neck, raising the small hairs to attention.

What was this, she hadn't given the order to retreat. She hadn't informed him of anything! Was he supposed to follow or stay? His eyes darted blindly throughout the surrounding area, as if to find something that would calm him. He didn't know what to do, he didn't even know where she went. This never happened before, she never left him alone. She never _completely_ left him. Panic and anxiety swelled deep in his chest as he slowly stood up, his shaky hand crawling up to clench at his left arm. Silently, he hoped that maybe his partner could just direct him to his next objective like he always did. Always screaming and urging him to _do_ something; demanding and loud, but after a while of pitiful eerie silence, Crona was left to his own devices. Amongst his nervousness he felt there was something very heavy pressing down on him, almost feeling like it was trying to suffocate him. There was something deep, seeping further from the halls, crawling and wriggling like a parasite. It was _something_; an emotion, a desire, but his own fears made it seem like nothing more than a faint buzz in the back of his mind. A minor detail that did not require his immediate attention. As it were, he couldn't possibly deal with anything else. Above all else, Medusa was his main priority.

His legs soon began moving, his mind reeling with countless questions, countless possibilities and vivid consequences. How was he suppose to know where she went? Her voice that usually floated in his head with a smooth cold tone was no longer there. No whispers, no orders, no voice from someone he knew very well. The only one he recognized, the only one that guided him and she was gone, leaving him all alone. Just like that. Did she abandon him? Had she finally become fed up with his anxieties and doubts? Did she finally deem him nothing more than a worthless son? He certainly couldn't deal with that. It was impossible. That would mean he'd be alone forever, he couldn't lose her.

What could he possibly do without any guidance anyway? He'd have no purpose.

Confused and terrified of the unknown, Crona continued to walk further, back to where Medusa said she'd be; where she'd greet the Academy students and their fellow teacher. He wasn't really looking though, his eyes were stuck to the floor wandering around. It wasn't until he saw blotches of blood enter his vision that he stopped and stared at it.

His eyes slowly looked up, a figure entering his line of vision until his eyes widened in recognition at the sight of a giant screw impaled in the man's skull. He was standing still with his shoulders hunched over lifelessly, a thin line of curling smoke drifting from the stick in between his lips. The mere sight of him would have terrified him if he was not so absorbed at the sight of the thick liquid drenched in the doctor's clothes and on some parts of his messy grey hair. That was _her_ blood; a lot of it. It practically washed over the floor he stood on. Was she gone, just like the Little One? No that couldn't be, she was Medusa, there was nothing that could stop her, especially with a vast amount of knowlege at her disposal. She wouldn't, couldn't, die like the animal he had slain years ago, so she wouldn't end up like it did. There was no way anyone could get rid of a Witch like her.

Regardless, there was nothing to ease his nervousness around this man's presence.

Stein's eyes lazily looked over to stare at him, his eyes hollow and dead with exhaustion, Spirit who stood beside him, followed his gaze to the shaken boy staring at the stone surface of the floor stained with several drops and puddles of blood. His shoulders up and tense, his frame shaking and withering with fright.

"It's him." he murmured curiously, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the Demon Swordsman.

Crona snapped his head back to attention, who exactly was that man with the red hair? He knows he's seen him, he saw them back in Italy. He was talking to Maka. His hand was on the Screw-Head Man's shoulder, did he get hurt? Medusa, she did that, there was no mistaking those slashes, but where was she? She wasn't here either. Did she forget to call for him? Or did she really...

He didn't notice his lips were trembling until he spoke up.

"L-Lady M-Medusa, w-where is L-Lady Medusa?" he managed to stutter out the question, he was too scared, his voice was too soft. He knew exactly what those men were capable of and he didn't want to go through that again. Not the soul rejection nor their wavelengths. He wasn't confident he could deal with that sort of pain; the pain inside his body or the pain inside his head. He took a few tentative steps forward, his hand moving unconsciously to hold onto his arm again in habit. His head looked this way and that as if he thought Medusa was playing a game of Hide-and-Go-Seek and she was hiding somewhere among the black puddles of blood. Glancing back up at the pair he managed to continue further, his mind too jumbled to realize they were still the enemy. "S-she hasn't called me y-yet. I don't understand, what am I suppose to do here? Where do I go?" he whined, his nerves getting the better of him as he continued his useless search.

Staring at Crona from a distance, the two men could sense that he was no danger for the moment.

"Hey, Demon Swordsman!"

Crona flinched at Spirit's loud voice calling out to him. He tried to glare at the man, but it was weak and half-hearted. Yet, despite his current priority, he decided to turn fully towards the young man whilst silently dreading what he had to say.

"Where's Maka?" he asked softly. When Crona didn't respond, he asked again. "Where's my daughter?"

Listening to his voice, Crona knew it was a tone he felt unfamiliar with. It held anger yes, but there was something behind it that he couldn't quite grasp.

"M-Maka...?" He felt confused. He had to worry about finding Medusa or else risk getting into more trouble than he was in. "Um..." his eyes scanned around him as he fidgeted with his fingers at the mention of the young girl. He kind of did wonder about her too; after all she said they were friends. Fearfully he looked up at Spirit and stuttered out his answer. "I-I d-don't-" He trailed off as he just repeated what she had said in his head. They had become friends and then afterwards, Maka went straight towards the Kishin with the others.

"What about my daughter?" Spirit asked once more, his voice sharp and cold. The boy flinched again. So he was Maka's father and he was worried about her. A confused sound squeaked from Crona as he thought back to his encounter with the Death Scythe's daughter.

"M-Maka went with Soul." he mumbled shyly. Their fight, though intense and painful, left them both with minimal damage thankfully. So there was no need to worry about their health. Those two were strong, they could handle so much more than he ever could. A thought suddenly flashed through him as his head unconsciously turned back behind him, faster than he initially meant to. She said they were friends! That meant that he could go to her instead, right? Don't friends help each other anyway? Of course. Now he wouldn't be so lost, he could go to Maka. Thinking back on it, she was very nice to him after all that had happened. She would help him out. Maybe. She would know what to do, he knew because of her eyes, determined and strong; unwavering. It seemed like a long shot, but that was all he needed to know to look for her. Even if he was wrong, he had to try. Everything should have been sorted out by now, so that meant he could go find her instead of searching blindly for Medusa.

A rare rush of excitement shot through his as he quickly tried to turn around, back to where Maka had went with Soul towards the Kishin.

However, the moment his legs moved a step forward, something big and dark struck him. The object sliced into his skin and upon contact with his blood, stopped from where the liquid hardened. A gasp escaped him as his eyes instantly became sharp and focused at that act of hostility aimed at him. His body went rigid as he unconsciously prepared himself for a fight. He barely felt the sliver of pain register in his head as he laziliy looked up to see Steins arm slightly above his head from throwing the object that was a Death Scythe.

"I'm afraid we can't let you leave here just yet, Demon Swordsman. Please come with us."

Crona couldn't quite understand his demand. Why did he have to follow them, he could just go find Maka, they knew her. He didn't like the way their eyes looked at him, as if holding something against him; blaming him. Their eyes made him feel cornered and threatened, promising bad things should he continue to look for her. He didn't know how to deal with them like this, with them turning their bloodied blades at him. They may be friends and family to Maka and engaging them in battle would be rude, but he didn't know how else to deal with them. They were trying to stop him from finding his _only_ friend. He couldn't allow that.

"R-Ragnarok..." he whispered softly.

The familiar flow of blood traveling down his arm never came. Crona's eyes widened as he looked at himself in a panic and mentally questioned his reluctant weapon.

_"Shut it, you sissy la-la! I don't want to bother with you or them right now!"_ he shouted within him, mentally shutting him out. Crona winced at his painfully loud and angry voice, but gave in to his wishes. No, he was stunned into submission with bewilderment. Ragnarok _never_ turned down a chance at a fight, he willingly even caused them at times. Why wouldn't he turn to a sword now of all times when he really needed him? As it were, he had no chance at fighting back as he was, he needed Ragnarok to use his blood-based attacks. His attacks can be devastating, but his defenses were still in the works, he wouldn't last long. No, not against those wavelength attacks, he couldn't. Sure, Stein had a few injuries slowing him down, but he was most certainly not down for the count. Physically weak to put up much of a resistance, Crona silently resigned to his fate, waiting and wondering what they were going to do.

He whimpered when the blade at his feet morphed back to normal and when risking a glance at the tall man, he could tell he was far from amused. Maka was fine, he had no reason to lie about her, it seems it would take a lot more than words to get out of this mess. That scared him, what did they want from him, why did they even want him? Why was it that they bothered him when he himself had nothing to do with them?

The man's hand pushed him forward towards the Screw-Head Man that was waiting patiently for them to follow. Crona groaned softly, he felt he was doing something bad, something he was not allowed to do but was helpless to stop it. If he didn't listen they'd probably hurt him. Or worse, he wouldn't be allowed to see Maka. The thought made him bitter, angry and sad, but he followed their instructions nonetheless.

At least he was sure he wouldn't get any dinner tonight.

* * *

><p>Something big had happened today; the Kishin was revived and it was a very big deal. That was exactly what Medusa wanted; the Kishin. It was the thing she wanted him to turn into, to become, but he couldn't; he was too weak. He didn't understand, it didn't feel like something as big as that had come back. It was supposed to be frightening and intimidating, a most horrible sensation to ever crawl through one's skin. Yet, the very least he could tell was that something in the air had felt different, but that was it. It was thick and slightly familiar, dark and distorted and that was it. To him, there seemed to be no real cause for alarm. He's dealt with worse.<p>

Maybe it took a bit more time for it to sink in thoroughly. Yes, that sounded right. For the time being, he could wait and rest for a little while; right now he was in a safe little corner, his head tucked into his arms as he wearily began to nod into the embrace of sleep. The open window sent in drifts of cold gusts, but his robe was thick enough to keep them at bay, leaving a comforting atmosphere perfect for sleep. The only thing that vaguely nagged at him was his stomach. He was hungry, but the prospect of food didn't seem as appealing as the prospect of blissful slumber. A very sweet and dreamless sleep, waiting to engulf his consciousness and ease his tired body and soul.

Sleep was really the only thing that would calm him, but even then they'd be littered with nightmares and if it was a particularly good day, then they'd be dreamless and restful. He wouldn't have to think of anything until he woke up naturally of forcefully. It didn't help that he had become a light sleeper, so it was more often than not, forced and unpleasant. But this oncoming sleep felt like it would be a good one, maybe a deep one and he'd feel better when he'd wake up despite his hunger.

"Damn it, Crona!"

Too bad he had to have bad blood. His head jumped in a start, his heart jolted into a frenzied pace. The sudden scare jarring his brain and making him dizzy. A low moan escaped him mournfully as his head fell back against his arms. He forgot, Ragnarok was hungry too, a thousand times hungrier than any other living thing he'd known. Annoyed and griefed with his horrible luck, the boy tried to hide under the protection of his thin arms as the creature burst through his back in between his shoulder blades.

"I don't care if you starve, but I'm hungry! Get something from their cafeteria, now!" he whined, selfishly hitting the top of Crona's head.

"You know I can't do that, Ragnarok. The door's locked from the outside, I can't do anything from here." he reasoned, but his rationality only made the little demon angrier. A barrage of gloved fists pounded hard on his exposed head, forcing a headache to throb furiously inside his cranium. His earlier assault still left Crona's head tender and his face covered in aching bruises. Even as his arms tried to cover his aching head, the horrible throbbing and the pain heating his face had already settled. This sort of pain went well over his limit. His body still ached in places where Maka had attacked with brute strength and he was still shaken by all that occurred up to this point. Now, his deep and rare peaceful sleep had slipped through loose fingers by a loud mouth. Unable to tolerate the flurry of punches and irrational shouts he cried out in raw anger, stretching out his arms to fight back against the annoying curse that was his blood.

"I told you I can't! L-leave me alone, Ragnarok!" But his pleas would not be heard, it only fueled the creatures wrath as his harmless bullying and Crona's innocent self-defense began to turn ugly. A fight was brewing between the two heatedly, boiling with all the stress that had been held by both souls. The meister's eyes glazed over in a haze of rage as his hands groped and clawed at the creature above him and black blood began to seep through his skin in wriggling motions as Ragnarok pulled and hit harder. Crona moved away from the safety of his corner and now stood in the middle of the room, his arms clawing, searching for a firm hold.

The black blood demon sword has always been with him and it constantly hurt him, tormented him in the dark when he 'misbehaved'. He could deal with it then, he gave in to the punches and the nosebleeds, it wasn't as bad as it may have seemed. The whole scenarios were probably the only thing that kept him sane sometimes. They were harmless regardless of what rational minds thought otherwise.

It wasn't until he had to do something he knows in his heart he should not have done, and that was 'taking care' of the little animal that stared back him with red eyes. Those eyes were filled with fear of the boy and the woman, but it also held anger maybe even a bit of hate. It trembled before him, spat hot flames in his face, did anything it could to make them go away yet it was futile. From Crona's point of view, it was just wrong; he couldn't possibly do it. For Ragnarok, however, it was just another trial; another obstacle for them to overcome on their way for power. It was a necessity and it didn't take long for Crona to see it as nothing else but necessity.

From his small, clenched hand the blade was mercilessly swung down onto it's tough scales and pierced its internal organs, it's life flowing out in red, snuffing out it's life like a weak flame. That night, he was praised and rewarded for his good work; his so-called accomplishment. Later into that night, Ragnarok had reminded him of their task that they had completed and it ate away at Crona, knowing he had given into their demands to kill. Feeling something, he was never meant to feel, that sensation felt disgusting.

That horrible feeling of accomplishment in the eyes of his 'mother'.

He had watched as the beast let out its shrill cry, squealing and writhing in pain. With cold, glazed over eyes he watched as the burning, young light roaring behind its blood red eyes dimmed and flickered longingly. The flame of its life gone with a single stroke of a small sharp blade.

Ragnarok kept talking and boasting about it and exclaimed how they would do it again and again, at that point something in Crona snapped; another thin thread cut from all thought. In his anger he raised his small trembling fist upward and slammed it into the underside of Ragnarok's jaw hard and vengeful.

That was when their first _real_ fight had broken out between them as stress levels were raised over the roof.

They had shouted at one another and struggled in a quarrel and that was exactly what they were doing right at this moment. Rarely was Crona the one to initiate a fight that was not ordered by Medusa, it was hardly comprehendable that he would even think of doing so, but when it came to his own curse, his own body, he would fight back. Usually when he was close to losing it, Ragnarok would relent and brush it off as playing around and that was it, the calm would come back, but this time they were both agitated, both were not at all comfortable in their current predicament. They were in enemy territory and without guidance of their 'mother'. From both of their prospective, they were in trouble and there was no where out. They were threatened and it was most certain that they would be killed.

"What the hell's your problem, you cross-dressing ninny?"

"Leave me alone, I don't want to deal with you anymore! Go away!"

"We're stuck together you moron! You _have_ to deal with me!"

A sound of pent up frustration tore through Crona's throat as he tried to pry off the gloved hands stretching out his mouth from behind. He scratched and clawed, even tried biting, but it was no use. Ragnaroks vengeful hands were pulling his lips back painfully, splitting small cuts open. Small bits of blood dripping, but never touching the floor. When Crona bit his finger, he yelped and pulled at his hair, tugging a few strands from the roots making the headache increase just that much more. More black blood started to seep from Crona's skin as they grew more and more unstable, small tentacle-like appendages reaching for nothing, curling and grasping as if trying to morph into something else, some parts even hardening into small spikes. If they were to go any further, if their souls became more out of sync with each other a Soul Rejection was just a small step away.

In their frenzied conflict, Crona's feet hooked over a leg of a chair, halting his movement momentarily and disrupting his balance. He fumbled and struggled to catch himself with the bed's covers only to have Ragnarok blind him and pull at his head harshly, leaving him to his fate of falling down. A pained yelp escaped him until it morphed to a small growl of frustration, his hands reaching behind him to scratch and pull at the monster above. Cries of pain and shouts of anger were tossed back and forth between them, loud and relentless as they literally tried to pry the other off.

From a third person's prospective, the bickering between the meister and the weapon looked to be rather violent. Crona was doing everything he could to slam Ragnarok against any hard surface. The black demon resorted to throwing small objects at his meister, starting with the little lamp on top of the nearby desk. It managed to land on Crona's head and bounce down to crash on the cold marble stone, the small bulb glass breaking and spreading throughout the surface. The duo seemed undeterred with the sound and continued with their scuffle, never noticing or feeling the small shards cutting through cloth and flesh and mixing with black liquid as they rolled around. They shouted at each other and called the other names, well Ragnarok did, all Crona could manage was "Bully" or "Meanie" and other childish accusations.

Finally, it wasn't until the door to his cell was opened spilling forth the dim hall lights that they paused in their fight.

"What's going on here?" the voice boomed, making Crona squeak and stumble in an effort to stand from the floor. Ragnarok only stuffed his hands with fistfuls of his meisters hair, leaned over and glared at the intruder in a futile attempt at looking intimidating.

Sid calmly stepped in, the keys he used to open the door jingling at his hip. He looked around to see that there was a bit of mess in the once clean room. The desk had scraped away from its previous position, the blankets atop the once made bed was pulled over and crumpled in a messy heap. The book lamp once residing on the askew desk was now smashed and ruined on the floor. His eyes then glided over to the quivering boy now standing and inching further into the cell, his eyes wide, fearful and burning with remnants of dimming anger.

Crona's breathing was ragged and short, small beads of sweat barely forming around his reddened face. His hands were shaking and twitching, light adrenaline still running through them. Ragnarok was no different, his small fists still pounded painlessly at Crona's head, his anger fuming in steam. It was obvious to anyone that they were fighting.

"What happened here?" he asked once more, patiently waiting for an explaination.

"Nothing, you stupid ape! It's none of your damn business anyway! What are you doing here, huh? This is our room! Go away!"

He ignored him and focused his attention to Crona. His face was littered with small bruises and his nose had a line of blood trickling down to his lips, and leaking all the way to his chin, dripping slowly. The backs of his hand had smears of more blood from the shards that had burst from the fallen lamp. The weapon bore the same scratches, but the escaped blood looked more like thin, black tendrils of liquid wriggling around in the air.

The teacher sighed, his shoulders sagging from the added burden of being this kid's warden. Only an idiot wouldn't be able to tell that the two were fighting recklessly and fights like that always ended up being bitter and empty. In his hand he held a tray of food prepared for the boy and reached out to hand it to him.

"Listen, I know it may be a little stressful to be here, especially considering that you work with the Snake Witch Medusa, but you can't just be causing trouble here." He saw Crona flinch at the mention of Medusa and even noted that he started to tremble a little bit as he reached for the tray cautiously. His hands cold and shaking from the rush of adrenaline and the fearful sight of a deceased man. "Now when I was alive, I wasn't a man to sugar-coat my words in situations like these. Tomorrow we'll have to evaluate you in terms of place and to be honest I'm not sure how that's going to look for you. Considering what you've done and who you've worked for, well let's just say that a few things aren't exactly going to be in your favor. I highly suggest you be on your best behavior and cooperate with what we ask earnestly."

None of the two boys said anything, Ragnarok didn't even try to steal the tray of food as he continued to glare at Sid with bitter contempt.

"That's all I can inform you of at the moment. Before then, you should get some rest, today's been quite hectic and we could all use it."

With that he turned away and closed the door, leaving Crona to stand there hopelessly as his weapon finally moved to gulp down the food given to them without a care of what had just transpired. He shoved all the contents of the food down his mouth while Crona listened carefully, straining his ears to hear the click of a lock and echoes of footsteps going further and further away from him. He wondered what would really become of him here, where was Maka? Where was Medusa? What were they up to?

Not knowing either answer made him anxious and sad, he didn't know what to do. He hoped, though, that Sid wouldn't come around so often. He wasn't sure how he could deal with a zombie watching over him all the time.

Whimpering softly in worry, he begrudgingly went to curl in a sitting position at the corner he had left prior to their fight. The once cold room was now hot and stuffy from their struggle and it made the small scratches on his face and hands burn ruthlessly. He sat down, his chin resting on his arms and his head leaning against the cool wall. Silently, slowly and agonizingly, he drifted into a dreamless sleep; hoping beyond hope that tomorrow would never come and he would stay in the darkness with nothing but the moonlight to shed some light to his bleak existence. With the calm, thick silence, it wasn't long till he fell completely asleep.

Tomorrow eventually came, but no one had come to inform him of any news concerning him, just someone he didn't recognize delivering breakfast. Crona managed to eat some of it before giving the rest to Ragnarok. His appetite was deteriorating, he didn't feel comfortable here when it was daytime. The sounds outside seemed too loud and occasionally he would hear people's voices chattering outside. It made him anxious of what Sid had told him, wondering who was going to confront him, what his sentence was going to be and the like. From what he was told from Spirit at the time he was brought in, he was staying at the low levels of the school building. There was no clock stationed anywhere in the room, so he had no idea what time it was, yet it was obviously still early in the morning. He could guess that it was maybe around seven or eight, somewhere around there. The scratches and bruises he recieved yesterday were still healing, they were barely noticeable but they still ached and burned. He couldn't fall back asleep either, it was a lot easier if he was surrounded in darkness, but the sun's harsh light was too much and it left a dreadful feeling in his gut. As if he felt that something was going to happen and he didn't know when it would, nor did he know if it was good or bad.

The whole torrent of thoughts and expectations exhausted him into depression where he would sit in his corner and wait for nothing.

Ragnarok himself didn't even bother to pop out much, there was nothing he could argue with and he didn't feel like beating Crona like a rag doll; at the moment it just felt like a boring morning. A morning where there was absolutely _nothing_ to do, nothing besides mull over his own thoughts and woes.

That's when his head seemed to remember something. Hugging himself in self-consciousness, his mind replayed that moment when he felt Maka's soul wavelength engulf him like a warm blanket. He had felt calm then, a bit flustered after she had wiped away that circle and maybe a little upset, but still feeling secure for once in her embrace. Just the memory was enough to wipe away the majority of his concerns and make a small smile twitch at his lips. He used the pillow he had grabbed from the bed earlier to press against his bruised cheek pleasantly. For a while he just stayed there, remembering.

_"Tch, she was a big fat pain in the ass if you ask me!"_ his partner hissed inside.

Crona ignored him and focused on that memory. She had gotten close to him, _wanted_ to get close to him personally, at least that's what he felt and it sent a pleasant faint blush to color his pale cheeks. When was the last time he had human contact that did not involve bloodshed or hostility? Medusa had stopped rewarding him with such things as hugs after he had gotten a little older. Feelings of a warm embrace were near nonexistent and it refreshed and eased him mentally. Having just the mere memory made his tense muscles relax and his anxious heart calm in contentment.

"Hey! Are you really gonna fawn over that flat cow just because of a little hug?" Ragnarok finally emerged from his back to look down at him, his face looking angry as he questioned the boy. "You do realize why she did that, don't you!" he exclaimed while pointing an accusing finger at him.

Crona didn't want to answer, he knew what Ragnarok was hinting at and he didn't like it.

"C'mon you know she did it just to get the better of you!" he continued, but Crona ignored him. He groaned in annoyance. "Of course I _had_ to get stuck with a cross-dressing pansy who's a sucker for hugs..." he grumbled bitterly.

"Against a wimp like her, she would've been easy to take care of! If we had just killed her on the spot, we wouldn't even be here! _I_ wouldn't be like this!" he gestured to his shrunk form.

"S-so where would we be?" Crona asked not really wanting an answer from his partner, but simply wondering on fragile 'what ifs' and vague curiosity.

"Home you idiot, where we belong! Medusa would've gone back there and you know it! That woman can't possibly be dead. Nope, not that damn Witch... Hell would freeze over and we'd be split." he growled lowly collapsing onto Crona's head with a bored plop.

Crona wasn't sure he wanted to go back home, everything so far seemed a little bit more easier to deal with here; just a little. At least his anxiety went down a bit, not like his home with Medusa. He would constantly fear those calm pitter patter sound of bare feet walking by his door, constantly wishing they wouldn't stop and yet wish they would. His mind couldn't choose what he wanted and he was forced to dread and hope for the sound of Medusa's voice to slither into his head.

He shook away those thoughts and spoke up.

"But didn't you feel it too?" he asked softly looking up at Ragnarok with a softened expression. "Didn't you feel a little better? Calmer?" Crona knew he had, Maka's wavelength engulfed Ragnarok's soul too, soothing it from all the boastful wrath he felt. It was no different than a festering wound being relieved of all the gunk and filth that blocked it's healing process. Allowing it to breathe a new breath. "I-I think it felt... very nice." He hugged himself tighter trying to replicate the way Maka had held him, her head nuzzling gently against his and her arms holding onto his back securely, promising warmth and comfort.

For once Ragnarok was silent, he grimaced, but didn't really argue with him. "Whatever! That ugly cow made me small! Do you know how humiliating that is?" he pulled at his hair to emphasize his point. He prattled and shouted in a flustered rage that held no meaning behind it's screeching.

Crona didn't seem to mind the pulling, he knew Ragnarok missed it too, he was a part of him and he had also gone through hell back home too. Not as much as Crona, but he had been cursed too, denied of freedom he also deserved, so he was just as much of a victim as he was. That purifying touch was a relief for their strained souls, forced together in an act of selfishness. A relief that made his fears go away for just a moment. Though he was still uneasy around others and may even be so with her as well, nonetheless he still felt that being around Maka was a good thing.

Even if the voice in the back of his head stated otherwise.

"I wonder where Maka is right now..." he mumbled staring at the door that had yet to open. He hoped he would see her again, she made everything less scary. At least she would make him feel a little better about being here.

"Hmph, I don't care."

-X-X-X-

**A/N:**** I know that when I re-read this, I'll still feel dissatisfied, it never fails! So I've fixed a few things and hopefully it's at least presentable, because there's always a mistake or two that evades us all. There's still a few irks here and there, but I'm _now_ satisfied with how I've written this, even though it's a little bit. I know I said that once this one's up, the second chapter should be up as well...**

**Unfortunately, the second one is still in the process of getting sorted out, so I'm afraid this will have to do for now.**

**I apologize for the inconvenience. Again if there still seems to be something off or you don't understand anything in the story, please tell me. I've looked over and adjusted a few things over and over again, but some things slip...**

**Till the next update~**


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